


The Perfect Distance

by bullet (teii)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, born and raised in germany!newt au, faintest implications of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teii/pseuds/bullet
Summary: Hermann’s not laughing, “They’re offering you a teaching position there. You should take it.”Newton tries to act nonchalant, using the palm of his hand to knead circles into his thighs. “Why? If I walked up to my advisor tomorrow, I could get a class or two to teach next semester.”“You know as well as I do that’s completely different--”“So what?!”Hermann shoots Newton an unimpressed look. “You have to think about your future.”Newton looks at him dead in the eye in return. “I am. My future is with you.”--From Munich, to Boston, and back again.





	The Perfect Distance

**Author's Note:**

> All quotes in italics are in English, otherwise they’re speaking in German.
> 
> You promised me that everything is fair  
If it's love and war  
But you're giving up the fight  
Is it not worth fighting for?
> 
> All of this tethered to the heart  
Holding what you meant  
If it's really what you want  
[Then I confidently send--](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K87MK1Fh43Y)

**15 meters**

“Look,” Lars Gottlieb orders, and Hermann turns, scanning the crowd until he spots him-- Newton Geiszler.

It’s the first time he’s ever seen him, apart from newspaper clippings and television interviews. He somehow looks even younger in real life.

“You do know he is a year younger than you, yes? A genuine wunderkind,” Hermann’s father sniffs, scowling.

Hermann tempers the reflex to remind his father that he was thirteen himself, and that he was already five years younger than the majority of his classmates at the Technische Universität München. He nods instead, staring straight ahead, trying to concentrate on the Dean’s Welcoming speech.

“Make sure he does not overshadow you,” Lars Gottlieb warns.

_You must be better than him at all costs_, Hermann hears, knowing what his father really means and he casts his eyes downward.

**1 meter**

As Hermann predicted, he was mostly left alone on campus. There were classmates nicer than others, the ones willing to engage in small-talk before class and exchange notes, but that was about the sum of the interactions he gets on a daily basis.

He’s taken to simply get his meals on the go, so he can avoid eating alone in public, and he’s doing a delicate balancing act trying to keep his dinner stable with his cane in his other hand as he navigates down the steps towards the courtyard.

“Watch out!”

The warning comes far too late, as his backside hits concrete, and he gasps, the searing pain racing through him.

“Oh crap, I’m real sorry about that, here, grab my hand--”

Hermann smacks the offering hand away, “I don’t need your pity,” he sneers, and it’s only now that he looks up and sees exactly who he crashed into.

Round face, glasses that seem much too big, and a comically oversized hoodie doesn’t take away the fact that Newton Geiszler is pissed. “Fine! You didn’t have to be such a jerk about it anyways!”

“You have some nerve saying that when you were the one that bumped into me!” Hermann shouts at Geiszler’s back, but the other boy was already storming away.

\--

Finals week, and the entire library was crammed with students, taking up every single desk space possible. Hermann had managed to snag himself a seat in the corner of the library, his secret spot that people rarely passed by, until the sound of a bookbag hitting ground shakes him out of his concentration, and he frowns as he finds Geiszler across the table, taking out his notebooks and laptop, not even asking Hermann if he could take a seat.

They spend the rest of the day like this, pointedly ignoring each other as they reviewed their notes and scribbled in new ones. Geiszler had snuck several bags of candy and sugary drinks in, and in this secluded corner away from any of the librarians, has made a sizeable dent in his provisions, as he taps his foot, hums under his breath, and mumbles to himself until Hermann can’t take it anymore and hisses out, “will you please **stop**.”

Geiszler, the perfect paradigm of maturity, sticks his tongue out at him.

“Unbelievable,” Hermann snaps, and they go back to ignoring each other until 9 pm rolls around and Geiszler glances over at his phone, battery completely dead.

He dives back into his backpack, but comes up empty, and he grinds his fist into his forehead, cursing his forgetfulness.

Hermann pulls out his own charger, and hesitates before murmuring, “...here.”

Geiszler looks up at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

“No, I decided I changed my mind.” Hermann rolls his eyes, as he slides the charger across the desk, refusing to return the smirk that Geiszler is giving him.

**50 centimeters**

They’re practically inseparable now, and it wasn’t uncommon to see one of them crashing into the other’s lecture, always for the express purpose of getting the same information at the same time in order to debate fiercely about the topic afterwards.

They have standards to their arguments now, put in place after a particularly nasty fight where Newton with his godawful, terrible aim had flung a textbook that slammed into Hermann’s bad knee. The younger boy had spent the following two weeks meekly subservient, carrying Hermann’s books and bag and coat for him until Hermann had enough and yelled at him for making their friendship weirder than it had to be.

They ply each other with coffee and chocolate and pastries, the offerings saying more than they’re willing to admit out loud. 

_Hang in there. _

_Don’t give up._

_You’ve got this._

**2 centimeters**

Hermann is sixteen when he receives his first kiss.

Newton had been acting up all day, his old nervous tics coming back in full force and Hermann frowns, imploring his friend to take his medicine.

“I did, this is just...this is-- oh fuck it,” Newton stutters out, before leaning forward, bumping his glasses with Hermann’s as their lips touch.

“...hm.” Hermann hums, after a spell.

“That’s it?!” Newton cries out, and Hermann lets him agonize for a second or two more, before closing the distance between them once more.

**0.1 centimeters**

“Oh Christ,” Newton groans, his face flushing. Hermann looks over, his own face burning up as he spies the condoms and lubricant in Newton’s bag.

“Where--”

“It wasn’t me!” Newton fidgets, “Tendo was just being a jerk, and was all like ‘now that you have a boyfriend, you need to be more careful.’ I’ll kick his ass the next time I see him.”

They both laugh, but Newton stuffs the condoms in the bottom of his desk drawer anyways. 

They come back out three months later, with Newton nervously grinning at Hermann who’s staring back at him in trepidation.

“If you’re not into it, tell me, and I’ll stop,” Newton promises, and Hermann nods, trying to relax.

But Newton barely presses in before Hermann jolts, shaking his head furiously.

“No. No. No no no,” Hermann chants, scooting away, panicking slightly, and Newton withdraws his fingers.

“Sorry, shit I--”

“No, it’s not your fault--”

It’s embarrassing, the both of them naked and cold and absolutely not in the mood. Newton sighs. “...another time then?”

**10 centimeters**

“I saw that email that MIT sent you.”

“Really now, Dr. Gottlieb, not at all concerned about invasion of privacy, I see,” Newton says in jest, the both of them knowing Newton reads all of Hermann’s emails too.

But Hermann’s not laughing, “They’re offering you a teaching position there. You should take it.”

Newton tries to act nonchalant, using the palm of his hand to knead circles into his thighs. “Why? If I walked up to my advisor tomorrow, I could get a class or two to teach next semester.”

“You know as well as I do that’s completely different--”

“So what?!”

Hermann shoots Newton an unimpressed look. “You have to think about your future.”

Newton looks at him dead in the eye in return. “I am. My future is with you.”

Hermann turns away, “You're still young,”

“You are too, even though you keep acting like some old stuffy professor.” Newt retorts, before frowning. “Look, this isn’t some artsy tragic garbo film where you’re my professor who’s twice my age going through some midlife crisis and the subsequent required ennui, this is...us.“

“You’re almost 19, you’re not going to be a wunderkind for much longer,” Hermann emphasizes, knowing too well that he’s sounding like his father, but it was the truth, for both of them. “This is an incredible opportunity, I don’t want you to squander it over the likes of me.”

Newton shifts closer, a hand on Hermann’s arm. “You’re worth way more than some job to me, you know that right? If I can just do my research and have you by my side, that’s more than enough for me.”

“Newton…”

“I mean it, Herms.”

Hermann presses his lips together. “Think of it as a test. If we still miss each other by the end of the year, then we were meant to be.”

Newton sighs, dropping his head onto Hermann’s chest. “I don’t like this. I always had you by my side.”

“I just want what’s best for you.” Hermann sighs into Newton’s hair.

Newton laughs, “and you know exactly what’s best for me, huh?”

“I **am** older than you.”

“By like what-- 9 months?! Please.” Newton rolls his eyes, but sombers up, fixing Hermann a grave stare. “Promise? Promise you’ll be here when I get back?”

Hermann nods, pressing his forehead against Newton’s. “Yes, I’ll be here.”

**6,196 kilometers**

They both become incredibly busy, with both of them dealing with having to add teaching on top of their research and papers, and even weekend skype chats were difficult to schedule. Newton grouses on and on about Boston, the shoddy public transportation, shitty American chocolate, and the distinct, glaring lack of Hermann.

Hermann lets him vent, badly wishing he could get up and just make a cup of tea for Newton and draw circles with his thumb over Newt’s hand and run his hands through his hair, but he nods and listens, and ends every conversation with the same thing:

“Not much longer, darling.”

**0.01 centimeters**

Newton was right.

Boston was miserable, especially in the midst of winter and the MIT campus practically empty. Hermann shivers in his giant parka, suitcase trailing after him as he tries to not slip on the ice.

Newton keeps touching him, as if he can’t really believe that Hermann would take the flight over from Munich to see him, and they spend most of the time indoors in Newton’s room, skirting hands across skin and chasing each other’s lips. They spend more time without clothes on than not, but Hermann isn’t interested in seeing the sights, and Newton definitely isn’t interested in letting Hermann go.

**6,197 kilometers**

“I can’t wait to get out of here and back to Munich,” Newton freely admits. He’s much more chipper than he was during the fall semester, the coming of the spring heralding his trip back to Germany, the light at the end of the tunnel.

Hermann nods, a little distracted, and Newton finally brings it up. “Hey, you ok?”

“Newton,” Hermann begins slowly, as if testing the waters. “I will not be in Munich when you return in May.”

Newton’s blood ran cold, “_Why?_”

Hermann can’t look him in the eyes. “I’ve accepted a position as an associate Professor at Oxford starting in the fall. I’ll be heading there early to do research during the summer months.”

The next hour was just Newton sobbing, pleading, begging for a solution. Something. Anything. But they both knew that it was too late to request a transfer for the upcoming semester. And Hermann wishes he could just get up and leave, but his presence here in front of the screen was the only penitence he could offer Newton, meager as it was.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was I meant to just chase you for the rest of time? Just hope and pray that eventually we can find each other again? You were never going to wait for me in Munich, were you? What’s to say that once I ship off to Oxford in a year’s time, you’ll be off somewhere else? This wasn’t a test at all, was it? This was you just trying to get rid of me but not having the balls to just break up!” Newton gasps, pain laced in every word, “Well fuck you too!”

Newton ends the call, and Hermann stands up, methodically shutting down his computer and `preparing for bed.

“It wasn’t like that,” he whispers to his ceiling, ten minutes later with his heart in pieces, “It wasn’t like that at all.”

**2 meters**

He’s back in Boston again, only a week after that disastrous skype call, and it’s not long before he finds Newton coming out of the only coffee shop that Newton says he can tolerate. It’s a long shot, but Hermann figures that the only way out of this was a sincere, serious face to face conversation with Newton.

The look of confusion on Newton’s face quickly morphs into rage, as Newton hurls his coffee onto the ground and storms up to Hermann, screaming the whole way, “How **DARE** you, Gottlieb! You think showing up suddenly like this is going to trigger some romcom scenario where I’ll just magically forgive you for all the bullshit you pulled?! Just suddenly forget that you don’t give a damn about the last seven years? God, I wanted to marry you, you fucking asshole! _You don’t get to DO this to me!_” There’s tears shining in Newton’s eyes as he stands there, breathless, heaving, and he whips around, suddenly realizing the audience he’s garnered.

_“What the hell are you all looking at?!”_

**Infinity**

Hermann hasn’t been eating well. Or sleeping well. Or doing anything well.

He spent the whole flight back blinking tears, not even fully crying, just dripping tears, too exhausted for anything else.

Tendo frowns at him, shoving more chicken soup at him, to which Hermann scowls at the bowl in disdain.

“It sucks, but you also can’t do this to yourself. Beating yourself up isn’t going to make things any better.” Tendo reminds Hermann, annoyance giving way to concern.

Hermann doesn’t have the strength to argue, and burrows back into his sheets. Tendo sighs, but he too leaves, snapping the door shut behind him.

\--

When he sees Newton again, it’s four years later, and at a wedding of all things. Newton doesn’t seem to notice him, taking his seat in a pew a few rows behind the bride’s immediate family, and Hermann does his damndest to not look over, which winds up to be possibly a lot more worse than if he had let himself look, as he’s now just daydreaming about the fantasies he had of himself marrying Newton that he had back when they were together, now violently resurfacing with a vengeance. He wades through the well-trodden visage of matching suits and grey-green-white palettes, and flower arrangements, and he hates himself through every second of it.

He knows he’s pushing his luck, but instead of directly heading up to his room once they get back to the hotel, he goes to the reception, and finds that his seat was right next to Newton’s.

Even as Newton’s scowling at him, he looks distressingly radiant, and Hermann’s heart threatens to break all over again.

But Newton doesn’t make a fuss, doesn’t demand that Hermann be removed from the table, in deference to the newlyweds, but the seething contempt Newton sends Hermann’s way is so thick, it’s practically suffocating.

Hermann stays just as long as it was polite, standing up to leave as soon as the speeches were over, and finds that Newton , they both make their way to the elevator, Newton in front, but matching Hermann’s gait, as naturally as ever.

It’s only when they reach the elevators that Newton finally turns around, and Hermann knows what he’s asking for.

**0.001 centimeters**

“You don’t get to do this to me,” Newton says into Hermann’s shoulder, clutching his waistcoat like a lifeline, “You can’t keep doing this to me anymore.”

And Hermann doesn’t respond, selfishly pulling back to brush his lips over Newton’s temple again and again.

They don’t talk as they undress, and even as Hermann pushes in, Newton refuses to make a sound, staring down at the mattress in silence.

“I’m heading back to TUM, this fall.” Hermann says after they finished, and he’s searching for his socks. “Professor Pentecost asked me to return.”

Newton ignores him, his back facing Hermann, and Hermann gets the message, turning around to make his way towards the door and letting it softly shut behind him.

** 1.5 meters**

“Hey.”

Hermann’s about to snap. He has no idea who thought it was a good idea to give him a giant freshman lecture to teach, but it was rapidly eating through his patience having to deal with the giant roster of students, half who shouldn’t even be in the class. But the icy bark he was preparing dies on his lips when he finds Newton strolling in.

“Oh.” Hermann swallows hard, his hand clutching his cane in a death grip as he tries to steady himself.

Newton takes his time to look around the lecture hall, and announces to the table between them: “I’m working in Berlin now. Bayer Biotech. Moved all my stuff back from Boston. Figured it was a good place to settle.”

Hermann knows what Newton means, underneath it all. 585 kilometers. It’s the perfect distance. Short enough distance that a spur of the moment train ride wasn’t too much out of the question, but far enough that if things go sour, they would never run into each other ever again.

“...okay.” Hermann finally chokes out. He wants to say so much more, that he’ll transfer to TU Berlin immediately, that he doesn’t care if he even gets a position or not, he’ll just fucking move **now**, but he can’t stand even the slightest possibility of Newton pushing him away again, so he only nods.

Once.

Twice. 

“Okay,” he whispers again, trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

Newton turns to leave, but not without sliding his business card across the table first.

**5 centimeters**

They’re walking out of the Residenz, and into the Court Garden. It’s a little past two, and Newton’s fiddling with his new DSLR camera, a two year (or was it seven?) anniversary present from Hermann.

“Hey! Smile!”

Hermann only has the time to look back at Newton before he hears the shutter click, and he blushes, though valiantly trying to pretend he wasn’t. “Was that really necessary?”

Newton laughs, and Hermann all but melts hearing it. “I’m walking next to the hottest model in Munich, why wouldn’t I want to snap a few candid shots?”

Hermann knows he doesn’t deserve the way Newton looks at him right now, stars in his eyes and light in his heart. Still lives in fear of accidentally pushing Newton away, and ruining everything again. But he steps forward, hand outstretched, and Newton laces his own in it. They brush shoulders as they bump into each other, and Newton is showing him the pictures he’s taken of the museum’s interior. Hermann takes the moment to land a kiss on Newton’s jawline, and Newton grins, before pressing his own kiss against Hermann’s lower lip.

**Author's Note:**

>   
Oh, baby I think we both know:  
This is a love that we won't get right  
Still if you said that you wanted  
I know I'll always have [one more try](https://youtu.be/e4KA6YVc9ec)
> 
>   
Thanks for reading! :) You can find me at teii on both [tumblr](http://teii.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/Teii).


End file.
